


Keep Your Chin Up

by OfficerLuna



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer
Genre: Lukes not really in it, M/M, Self Harm, Unrequited Love, self hate, think that's it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 09:41:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6652783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfficerLuna/pseuds/OfficerLuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael tries so hard to be perfect like the rest of his band. He knows he's not talented, or good looking, he knows all the hate comments are right. But he still tries to stay strong, it just never works out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keep Your Chin Up

**Author's Note:**

> Hey I wrote something hella angsty! Hope you enjoy, but don't read if you get triggered by cutting! 
> 
> This is kinda short but whatever.
> 
> Stay safe out there!

Michael tried not to look at Ashton during the whole interview, knowing that if he did then his gaze would remain there the whole time. Of course he couldn't remember his own rules and found himself staring at the older man from the corner of his eye.

He was glad that he started not sitting next to Ashton during interviews because it made it really hard to concentrate when the person you like is pressed right up against you. The more he started thinking about it, the more quiet he had become.

He felt an elbow poke him in the ribs and his head snapped up as he looked over to Calum who was giving him a questioning look. 

“You good?” Calum questioned, looking concerned which was understandable considering Michael was his best friend. Thought Mike had no idea why he was his ‘bff’ considering there were much better people than him. For many reasons.

Michael forced a bright smile on his face and nodded, even if he was shitting on himself internally, there was no need to alert Calum to this. Not like he would care even the slightest bit anyway.

The interview went by quickly after that and Michael was quick to hurry to the car that would drop them off at their hotel.

However before he could leave the building, his arm got grabbed by Ashton, probably the last person he wanted to be around.

“Hey Mikey.” Why did he have to use that nickname, why did he have to say things and make it sound like they were in a relationship. Even though they aren't and never will be, these nicknames are ruining him. And he wants them to both stop and never stop at the same time. “Are you okay? You've been off lately.”

Putting up acts were easy, he does them quite frequently. “Tsk, of course I'm fine you nerd. Why wouldn't I be?”

Ashton raises an eyebrow, unsure of what he should say or do next. “Are you sure? You know I care about you.”

Just not in the way Michael wishes he would. So really there is no point in actually caring about him, if no one cared then he could just disappear. He often made jokes about certain topics but sometimes he felt as if he wished he could actually go through with it.

“I'm sure, and I know you do.” Michael faked another smile, he wishes so desperately that he could explain what he was feeling, why he wears so many bracelets. Why said bracelets are starting to appear on his other wrist. He wants people to know just so he can pretend that people actually like him and care for him. That they aren't just saying those things out of pity. 

At least all the people who leave hateful comments on Twitter and such are being truthful. They actually think he's ugly, talentless, fat, and he agrees with them. Why else would he mark up his skin?

“I'm pretty tired. We should head back to the hotel.” Michael said, a smile gracing his lips.

“Oh! Yeah sure, let’s walk together.” Ashton smiled back, not suspecting a thing.

Michael couldn't wait to get back to his room alone and get back to business.

The two band members chatted back and forth like absolutely nothing was wrong. Michael was a bit giddy for what was about to happen, he could final get some release.

As soon as they arrived at the hotel, Michael practically ran inside and quickly shut & locked his door. The boy kicked off his shoes so they were by the door. He opened one of the pockets on his suitcase and pulled up a wadded up tissue.

He held it carefully in his hands and made his way to the bathroom, setting the tissue down on the counter. Slowly, one by one he started to remove all of his bracelets, knowing it was kind of tedious but was willing to do it. Once they were off they revealed cuts. Fresh ones, semi old ones, and some scars. 

These were something that he liked about himself, he knew it was fucked up but he loved the look of cuts on his skin. It was hard to explain the feeling. Michael eagerly shimmied his skinny jeans off and kicked them to the side, lightly running a finger over the cuts his thighs. Another thing he loved, just touching the marks and sometimes putting pressure down to feel the pain.

Most people would say that he didn't have the right to self harm or be depressed- he’ll be honest that's what he is. He wasn't being abused or have a bad family life. But he couldn't help the feelings inside, the corrupted thoughts that muddled in his brain. Who made him feel worthless and that he’ll never meet anybody who loved him.

He clenched his teeth and dug his nails in his skin, causing some pain. Though it was about time the feel fun started.

He unwrapped the tissue to reveal a razor blade sitting in the middle, he already felt relieved at soon as he picked it up. 

“Which first.” Michael mumbled to himself.

He tapped his chin as he thought and decided, thighs first. Who knows, he might do his stomach too, he's feeling particularly fat today so he deserves it. He walked over to the toilet and shut the seat so he could sit on it and have better access to his thighs. 

His fat ugly thighs that no one would ever want. The pale boy ran the blade over the right one first, making precise lines, so they could be perfect unlike him. The pain made him feel much better, so did the blood that welled up at the cuts before they got too heavy and started leaking down.

The blood was honestly one of the best parts, minus the cut itself. The feeling was hard to describe until you did it or felt this way.

Once both thighs were done, he brought the blade up to his wrists, these cuts he made a bit more shallow, just incase. Though sometimes he wanted to just go as deep as possible, but he didn't. Because maybe if he sucked it up and went through another day, things might get better.

He felt so much better, he actually felt better.  
Now he could go through the rest of the day. actually happy, until tomorrow. He would have to fake being happy just like he normally did.

Go through another day of everyone secretly hating him and wishing he would just die.

But he would pretend and act like everything's fine, even when it's not.

Because it never really is.


End file.
